"Cry freedom cry
From a crowd 10,000 wide
Hope laid upon hope
That this crowd will not subside
Let this flag burn to dust
And a new a fair design be raised
While we wait head in hands
Hands in prayer
And fall into a dreamless sleep again
And we wave our hands"
From a crowd 10,000 wide
Hope laid upon hope
That this crowd will not subside
Let this flag burn to dust
And a new a fair design be raised
While we wait head in hands
Hands in prayer
And fall into a dreamless sleep again
And we wave our hands"
["Cry Freedom", Dave Matthews Band]
A while back, the news reported that they'd started rounding up gay men in Chechnya and putting them in concentration camps. I felt sadness, depression. It's a feeling I know and recognize. I have my coping mechanisms. We all do. Some days I can cast them aside easily; other days they feel like an erosion of the soul and lead to a period of despair: an hour, a day or two sometimes. It's also a feeling with which I'm all too familiar.
Recently, as bill C-16 came nearer and near to finally becoming law, I saw the online comments of people whose discontent with having to keep pace with human evolution compels them to embrace their desire for a 'simpler time' with militant enthusiasm, wrap their ignorance in the guise of 'protecting free speech' or some such, and spew their vitriolic bigotry out into the world. I felt frustration and anger. The modern age of social media has given everyone a microphone, but clearly most have never heard old idiom about 'two ears and one mouth'. I'm usually pretty good at "leaving the woman at the river" but like everyone, I have my hot-button topics that allow certain things to get under my skin. A stranger commented on a friend's post about C-16, quoting Arsehole Psych Prof from U of T, and I struggled, barely able to resist the urge to chime in. He's a Psych prof, not a legal expert, and that was the best opposition they could muster? Do you get plumbing advice from your dog groomer? Have you actually read any legal opinions (i.e. completely disproving what he suggested) or did you just need someone, anyone, to put forth as the champion of your small-mindedness? But usually, when "duty calls", I remind myself the folly of arguing with idiots: they drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. It's a situation, a feeling, with which I'm familiar, and for which I have my coping mechanisms. (Like ranting here, for example.)
A few days ago, in a small Alberta town, a Pride flag was destroyed for the second time in only a few days. But on reading it, I didn't feel angry. I felt... proud. I remembered Satyagraha. We're winning. Keeping putting that flag back up. Again and again. They're only drawing attention to the issues for us. The dinosaurs are in their death throes. A newer, better world is coming, whether they're ready to face it or not. It's hard, sometimes, to remember that. It's hard to shake your head at the asinine, breathe deep, and let it go. But we must.
And I remembered a different feeling, one I felt almost a year ago, when I stood in Bannerman park after the Pride parade and looked around at all the people. There were people from all across various spectrums of sexuality and gender, as well as race, religion, and colour. It was a tremendous cross-section of human existence. "The world is full of all sorts of fascinating possibilities when you let it be," I thought. And I felt something, an odd feeling, that I didn't recognize. It was a feeling that would take me a long time to put my finger on. Clearly something I don't experience often.
It was awe.
I've meant to write about it for ages, but never found the right time and context. It was standing in a place awash with the emotion of a congregation of people embracing love in its many splendors. It is impossible to describe, except to say that it is a force unstoppable. And now, when I hear about burned flags or defaced crosswalks, I think of that unstoppable force. The tide has turned. We are the storm. These are their pitiful acts of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.
Mandela was right: love is stronger than hate.
Recently, as bill C-16 came nearer and near to finally becoming law, I saw the online comments of people whose discontent with having to keep pace with human evolution compels them to embrace their desire for a 'simpler time' with militant enthusiasm, wrap their ignorance in the guise of 'protecting free speech' or some such, and spew their vitriolic bigotry out into the world. I felt frustration and anger. The modern age of social media has given everyone a microphone, but clearly most have never heard old idiom about 'two ears and one mouth'. I'm usually pretty good at "leaving the woman at the river" but like everyone, I have my hot-button topics that allow certain things to get under my skin. A stranger commented on a friend's post about C-16, quoting Arsehole Psych Prof from U of T, and I struggled, barely able to resist the urge to chime in. He's a Psych prof, not a legal expert, and that was the best opposition they could muster? Do you get plumbing advice from your dog groomer? Have you actually read any legal opinions (i.e. completely disproving what he suggested) or did you just need someone, anyone, to put forth as the champion of your small-mindedness? But usually, when "duty calls", I remind myself the folly of arguing with idiots: they drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. It's a situation, a feeling, with which I'm familiar, and for which I have my coping mechanisms. (Like ranting here, for example.)
A few days ago, in a small Alberta town, a Pride flag was destroyed for the second time in only a few days. But on reading it, I didn't feel angry. I felt... proud. I remembered Satyagraha. We're winning. Keeping putting that flag back up. Again and again. They're only drawing attention to the issues for us. The dinosaurs are in their death throes. A newer, better world is coming, whether they're ready to face it or not. It's hard, sometimes, to remember that. It's hard to shake your head at the asinine, breathe deep, and let it go. But we must.
And I remembered a different feeling, one I felt almost a year ago, when I stood in Bannerman park after the Pride parade and looked around at all the people. There were people from all across various spectrums of sexuality and gender, as well as race, religion, and colour. It was a tremendous cross-section of human existence. "The world is full of all sorts of fascinating possibilities when you let it be," I thought. And I felt something, an odd feeling, that I didn't recognize. It was a feeling that would take me a long time to put my finger on. Clearly something I don't experience often.
It was awe.
I've meant to write about it for ages, but never found the right time and context. It was standing in a place awash with the emotion of a congregation of people embracing love in its many splendors. It is impossible to describe, except to say that it is a force unstoppable. And now, when I hear about burned flags or defaced crosswalks, I think of that unstoppable force. The tide has turned. We are the storm. These are their pitiful acts of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.
Mandela was right: love is stronger than hate.
"Lines around your eyes betray your age
Portraits of the battles you have waged
Let go of all your doubt and all your fear
We will wake up searching in the dark
Solitary sparks
We will wake up
Only for a night
Taken by the tide of morning light
We are glowing embers in the dark
A billion tiny timeless glowing sparks"
Portraits of the battles you have waged
Let go of all your doubt and all your fear
We will wake up searching in the dark
Solitary sparks
We will wake up
Only for a night
Taken by the tide of morning light
We are glowing embers in the dark
A billion tiny timeless glowing sparks"
["Solitary Sparks", The Fortunate Ones]
